The Wolf of Westminster
by Eve Hawke
Summary: Eleana Hawke has a quandary only a brilliant detective can solve. Fenris and his sidekick Varric are on the case - but is this one mystery that even they can't crack? A crossover fic, placing Fenris and Varric in the roles of Sherlock and Watson. Modern AU setting. Dedicated to the amazingly talented Ekocentric, whose artwork is the cover image for this story!


_A/N: This fic is dedicated to the amazingly talented Ekocentric, who requested a modern AU Sherlock/Fenris crossover. I'm so excited to tell this story! It's so different from what I normally write, but I'm having a blast with it. Three chapters are planned. Thanks must go to Jaden Anderson for her beta. Enjoy, my loves! And please review. It makes me soooo happy. :-D_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Fenris!" Kicking the door shut behind him, Varric hefted the plastic grocery bags, run-walking his way to the kitchen before his arms gave out. Burly he might be, but milk was _heavy_.

"Elf!" Varric bellowed as he set the bags on the kitchen counter. "It ain't staying cold if you don't get _down_ here!"

A clatter on the stairwell was the only response, then Fenris tore into the kitchen a moment later. "You got it?" he demanded, the fragile plastic shredding as he ripped the grocery sacks away.

"Hello to you too. Yes. Seven gallons." Varric plopped onto a kitchen stool, watching with mild interest as his companion rushed through the kitchen.

"You could have called," Fenris said distractedly as he opened cupboards and hunted through drawers.

"I did. Twice." Varric held up his cell phone, giving it a wiggle. "Check your messages, genius."

"_Venhedis." _ Fenris pulled the iPhone from his pocket and tossed it onto the counter with a scowl. "'It just works'. Do you know how many fundamental problems there are with that piece of crap?"

"Uh huh. That was last Monday's lecture. I'd rather not relive the Android versus Apple debate." Varric lifted the lone box of cereal from a bag and stowed it in the pantry, then yelped as ice-cold milk flowed over his sandals. "What the-"

"Move." Fenris shoved him back, then dropped like a cat hunting a mouse, stalking the milk as it traveled across the linoleum. "Put the others in the fridge," he muttered, his focus complete.

"Why do I even hang out with you," Varric grumbled as he pulled his sopping shoe from his foot. Grimacing, he tossed the footwear into the sink before shoving the remaining five gallons into the fridge. But for a stained carton of mu shu pork and a lonely bottle of mustard in the door, the milk was the only thing in the icebox.

"If you need me, I'll be upstairs. Writing my novel," Varric called back as he headed for the staircase.

No response from the kitchen.

"Think about dinner, would you?" Varric yelled, wondering if he needed a shower just to keep his feet from smelling like sour milk. "Pizza is out. So is chinese."

Silence.

Heaving a sigh, Varric turned to walk up the stairs - and stopped dead at the sight of the slim young woman who stood on the top step.

"Mr. Tethras?"

Dark haired, blue-eyed - oh, but she was a dream in leather pants. Varric swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, brushing a loose lock behind her ear. "I hope I didn't startle you. I knocked, but no one heard me, and... it was open."

"Uh - no problem." Varric managed to grin as he tried to remember if he'd left yesterday's underwear in the bathroom. A quick check to make sure his hands were milk free, and he held one out. "Varric Tethras."

"Eleana Hawke." She clasped his hand with a shy smile, her eyes flitting downward. "I - I don't suppose Mr. Fenris is in?"

"Ahhh..." Varric stole a glance back at the kitchen. "Sort of?"

Amusement flashed in her wide, crystalline eyes. "Sort of?"

Varric curved an arm around her shoulder as he led her down the hall. "He's got a project he's working on. But if you can wait, I'll let him know you're here."

* * *

The measuring cup wasn't in the dishwasher. Nor was it in the drawer. Fenris finally located the blasted thing in the fifth cupboard, and poured a quarter cup of vinegar.

"Steady hand," he murmured, then arced his wrist, throwing the vinegar into the white puddle. It hardly splashed. A caustic grin stretched his wolfish face as he watched the milk react to the acidic vinegar.

"There's a dame here," Varric's voice sounded at his back.

Glaring, he clamped his mouth shut and stared at the curdling milk. The reaction would tell him much, as long as the temperature had been right.

"Fenris-"

"I _heard_," he growled, studying the milk. "What does she want."

"Same as all the others, I bet. Sob story about some lost trinket. Family heirloom. Needs the Wolf of Westminster to fix her up."

Too slow. Fenris glanced at his watch. "Tell her the wolf is chasing a different quarry right now, and she can take her case elsewhere."

The grin in Varric's voice was insufferable. "I don't think she'll listen, boss."

"You say that as if I care." Scowling to himself, Fenris dropped back down to his knees and put his nose to the milk, drawing in the scent. Already, the odor was there, but it wasn't all that strong. Excellent.

"You might care." Varric sounded positively gleeful now. "I have that feeling."

"Oh, Varric has a feeling," Fenris snapped. "Someone call the papers..." but lifting his eyes dried the ironic words in his mouth.

Simple brown knee-high boots, the toes dipped with black mud. Long legs, sheathed in form-fitting, cream-colored leather. A short jacket, also in cream, worn unzipped over a black cotton top. The neckline was scooped, her skin smooth and even. Graceful neck, dark, straight hair brushing her collarbone.

Eyes like forget-me-nots.

Fenris blinked.

The woman drew her hands up her sides, then offered him a hesitant smile. "I'm sorry to have barged in-" she murmured in a dulcet tone.

"What are you doing out of Lowtown?" Fenris turned back to the milk, ignoring the rapid cadence of his pulse.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, shifting her weight. "Uh -"

"Watch it," he cut her off, feeling impatient. In a moment, she would step in his experiment and it would all be ruined. "What's more, you were running - probably from the police. Awfully dressed up, for a gutter rat."

A squeak of disbelief from the gutter rat. "I beg your pardon!"

"Don't mind him. He's just rude," Varric said quickly. "But I got no idea how he knew about Lowtown."

"The mud. That particular slurry is only found on the docks." Turning back to the milk, Fenris put his nose to it again, then nodded to himself before climbing to his feet. "Varric, do we have any paper towels?"

"Yeah. Paper towels. Sure." Varric cleared his throat, then backed out the door. "I'll just get the mop."

The woman crossed her arms, looking less shy and more irked, now. "So, yes, I'm from Lowtown," she said in a hard voice. "And I suppose you know everything else about me, too?"

One corner of Fenris' mouth turned up at her insolent tone. "I know enough."

"Right. Then tell me why I'm here, if you're so _brilliant_." That hint of a sneer did not insult him; rather, it was just enough to prod him onward.

"For a gutter rat, you're well-spoken," Fenris began, enjoying the thread of annoyance that crossed her face. "And my guess would be that all of this has something to do with the ring on your finger."

Her fist closed at her side, concealing the family crest stamped into the time-aged metal. "Maybe," she muttered.

"Look, Ms. Hawke-"

"I don't let men call me by name who I haven't _introduced_ myself to," she snipped.

"And I don't have time to work with ill-tempered brats." Fenris brushed past her, dismissing her from his mind. Eyes or no, her attitude was more trouble than she was worth. "Let yourself out."

"Wait, please-" The voice faltered, pausing his steps. She sighed, "I'm sorry. I just... it's all true, isn't it?"

Something in the way she said it turned his head. "What?" he asked, unable to help himself. The eyes... never had he seen such eyes. Not in the waking world.

"What they say. The cases you solve. The things you know." She minced toward him, her steps full of hesitation. "The papers make it seem like you're some kind of... sociopathic genius."

"Sociopathic." The word was full of irony. There was a gaping difference between what society perceived the word to mean, and what it actually meant. By literal definition, a sociopath was one who was antisocial, criminal, and lacked a sense of moral responsibility or social conscience.

Fenris cared. Too much, sometimes. It was why he continually allowed people to walk through his door, disrupt his life, and take advantage of his abilities.

"So... are you?" Her cornflower eyes appraised him, alight with curiosity.

A long moment passed as they looked at each other. "It depends," he returned at last. "What's your definition?"

The smile returned as she held out her hand. "I'm Eleana."

* * *

_They always have a story_, Varric thought as he made mental notes. Fenris' cases always made for interesting page fodder, and seeing the hobby detective in action was good for his muse.

They were in Fenris' study. Varric had claimed one corner of the battered leather couch, and Eleana perched on the other side. Fenris, as always, brooded from his high-back chair, a castoff Varric had found for a song at a yard sale and brought home on a whim. An idle corner of Varric's brain marveled at how little Fenris seemed to mind that his office was a complete mess - papers overflowed on the desk, piles of electronic junk littered the floor, and a few empty green bottles, still stained with crimson Aggregio, waited patiently for someone to cart them off to the rubbish bin.

None of it bothered the lanky elf, who had commented once that if he got rid of _this_ stuff, more would only find its way in. This was his cave, and Fenris had no desire to clean it.

_And yet, he invites clients here,_ Varric marveled. _He's got an image, that's for sure. _Eleana hadn't seemed to mind, though - she'd merely stepped over the broken toaster and edged aside the crumpled wads of newspaper before seating herself.

"So, this jewel was your grandmother's?" Fenris leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as his palms pressed together.

Eleana nodded as she sipped her milk. Aside from tap water, it was all they had to offer her. "It was left behind when my family left Kirkwall, decades ago. I wasn't even born then. Mother wants us to buy the house back, but before we do, the current owners are going to sell everything that's in it." She snorted. "Owners... what a crock. Remember the fire at City Hall a few years ago?"

"The one that destroyed all those records." Varric nodded. "Damn shame, that was. Though I did get out of a few parking tickets."

"Well, the records only started going online last year. As far as Kirkwall is concerned, possession is nine-tenths of the law, and those squatters have been there so long that no one will make them leave. We have to buy it all fair and square." Eleana sighed as she set the empty cup on the low table before them. "Honestly, the jewel might not even be there anymore. Who knows what's been sold for drug money."

"And you can hardly waltz in and demand your grandmother's necklace." Varric hefted the jug. "More?"

"Thanks, no."

"Why couldn't she?" Fenris' eyes flicked between them. "It's her property."

An incredulous laugh spilled from Eleana's lips, but then she turned to Varric. "Wait. Is he serious?"

"Come on, broody. A house full of thugs? And then you'll have a new case to solve - which Lowtown degenerate raped a pretty girl and left her for dead. Sorry," Varric threw Eleana a quick glance as she winced, her brows squinching with disgust.

"Look." Eleana fished a newspaper clipping from her pocket. "This was in the Sunday paper." She stood to pass it over.

Fenris' eyes skimmed the square of paper. "Classifieds?"

"They're having an estate sale." Eleana flopped back onto the couch, her ebony head tipping against the cracked cushions. "If the necklace is even still there. It could already be gone. But you understand my problem."

Fenris' white head shook back and forth as he handed the clipping back. "I'm sorry, Ms. Hawke. But breaking and entering is beyond my abilities."

"Oh, come on!" Varric reached for Eleana's hand. "This poor orphan? You're going to deny her her birthright?!"

"Orphan?" Fenris' lips twitched. "Her mother lives."

"Don't mess with my story," Varric hissed. His hands stroked Eleana's as he adopted a pathetic expression. "This sweet, helpless little thing - alone in the world, and all she wants is to hold an old family treasure one more time." One elbow nudged into their visitor's side. Eleana caught on quickly, her own expression diving into despondency. "Any chance your mother is on her deathbed?" Varric muttered.

"Sorry," Eleana whispered back. "Healthy as a horse."

"Damn. We'll have to beg, then." Varric sank to the natty carpet, followed a heartbeat later by an equally dramatic Eleana. Damn, but he liked this one. "Please, Fenris. I brought back seven gallons of milk for you. Seven. You can't repay me with a little B&E?"

"They'd hardly notice it was gone," Eleana hastened to interject, those cerulean eyes big and bright. Her hands fluttered to her heart. "And I'd be in your debt."

"See? Debt, Fenris!" Varric reached up to clasp the girl's chin. "How can you say no to this face?"

Fenris only stared at the pair of them, unmoved by their plea. It was sometimes hard to tell if his mind was processing, or had already rejected something and moved on. Varric was hoping for processing.

"And why haven't you simply gone to the police?" Fenris drawled at last. "Or hired a thug to accompany you to the door? And debt is all fine and good - but how do you propose to pay me, Ms. Hawke?"

"I have money," she said quickly. "What's your fee? I'll pay it." From a pocket within her coat, Eleana pulled a white envelope and thumbed it open.

"Whoa!" A long whistle left Varric's lips as twenties and hundreds flashed. "You married?"

Eleana snickered as she ruffled the cash. "Not a chance, dwarf."

"That's just mean," Varric complained. "I'd be a great gold digger. I'd rub your feet, cook you dinner, bring you seven gallons of milk on a whim..."

"So, you're _his_ bitch is what you're saying?" Another laugh from Eleana, her eyes sparkling as they focused on the green flying through her fingers. "I didn't know you rubbed his feet."

Varric grinned. "I like you."

"Here." Finished with her counting, Eleana slapped the money on the table. "A thousand. I can give you more when the job is done."

Statue-like, Fenris stared at the girl, his eyes hard as emeralds. _What the hell is wrong with him? _Varric wondered for the hundredth time. A thousand simoleons, and the elf simply stared at it?

"Fine," he said at last, leaving the fortune untouched upon the table. "Tonight, then?"

"I'll be there with bells on." With a happy smile, Eleana jumped to her feet and reached for his hand. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Fenris."

"Skip the bells. We're forcing our way into a manor house." Wry humor twinkled in his mossy eyes as Fenris took her hand. "Until tonight, Ms. Hawke."


End file.
